Deeds of Alraia
by punk rawker
Summary: Alraia, daughter of Aragorn and Arwen re forges the Ring, risking her life and the magic of the Elves.(also if you review my story i'll review yours ;D)
1. Fellowship of the Ring

1 Alraia  
  
I was born out of wedlock on an eve of snow, so I am told. Out of Arwen by Aragorn, kept a secret while I grew tall and beautiful (as I was told) in the wood of Lothlorien. I knew I looked every part of the elf, despite the blood in me being only half of the fair folk. My green eyes and blonde tinged brown hair were known to dart from tree to tree with the ease of the birds, I knew everything going on in my wood, and nothing of the world beyond. This my lady Galadriel and my lord Celeborn were glad for, as I was too young to know of the horrors of Sauron and the deep of Mordor. I did not know where my parents were, for I was a secret kept between the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien and my mother, Arwen Evenstar. On the eve of my fourteenth birthday, the day that the Fellowship set out on their doomed journey, I learned of the outside world.  
  
***  
  
  
  
"Mother. I'm going exploring. Good-bye," I left. Mother, Galadriel, staring after me with a slightly puzzled expression. Of course, she never guessed I would venture beyond the trees of Lothlorien. Yet I did. Pouncing from fir to oak to maple, I was rather stunned when the trees fell away to a rickety path. A worn wooden sign by the edge of the road informed me that by taking this path I would travel to Isengard. Why not? So I bounced off, eventually coming, exhausted, to a small in called the Yellow Demon. The sign looked menacing enough, but dark approached and I was loath to venture back to Lothlorien without the shield of light. Creeping in, I managed to evade the innkeeper and ventured in to the dining hall, where I took home up in the rafters. Here I had an excellent view, and settled down to await the first visitors. I didn't have to wait long. Two burly orcs strode in, and I leaned forward, having only heard tales of these beasts before.  
  
"Two beakers," one grunted. Unfortunately, smell rose and I experienced first hand the nose-biting odor of orcs.  
  
"Do you have any orders for me, boys?" the bartender asked, a smooth and slimy fellow with sleeked black hair and an oily look.  
  
"Yeah." one of the orcs snarled.  
  
"Well, tell them to me fools!"  
  
"The Nazgul'll be here later tonight, they'll tell you all you need to know."  
  
"Good. Word from the master, either of you?"  
  
"His forces are growing. The day of Sauron will come as soon as he catches the filthy midget with his Ring." Thus I learned of Sauron and his plots. I lay eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Black Riders long into the night. As the clock struck twelve, the orcs were thoroughly drunk, and the bartender was snoring gently on a stool. The pounding of hooves shook me out of a daze and I tensed on my narrow perch in the shadows. A black steed stained by blood, and a hooded figure astride it brought a shiver to me, brought a tremble to my rafter and brought a spasm to my voice: I gasped. The thing, horrible in its power, stared through its blood black hood up at me. I dared not beat my heart. It said something to the orcs, soft and grating in the language of Mordor. Soon all of them were staring up at me.  
  
"Come down, elf," the bartender ordered, a glint in his steely gaze.  
  
"No," I answered, not letting the fright inside me shake my voice.  
  
"Who sent you?" said the black terror, his accent of Mordor warping my native Elvish.  
  
"No one, I came of my own accord." I said, my body trembling.  
  
"Where did you come from?" the bartender blurted out anxiously.  
  
"Lothlorien." I blurted, throat seizing up.  
  
"Indeed…come down, lest I blow that pretty head off your body," the Nazgul ordered. I could not move for the spasm shaking my body, the light panic rising in my chest, the empty hood of the Ringwraith shadowed towards me, eager to kill me, eager to bring another in to death. He snarled at me, and I collapsed off the railing, falling off from my safe perch and collapsing down on the floor. The Nazgul turned to relay orders to the orcs, and I saw my chance: gasping with dire need I dashed through the front door of the inn. I spurted, heart throbbing, mind reeling, adrenaline igniting like fire through my body. I sprinted through the road and into the sparse forest's harbor of trees, reckless and loose, stumbling and wild with speed. I ran straight into a tall blonde haired form: an elf.  
  
"By Elbereth!" he exclaimed as I fell to the ground from the force of my crash. I crumpled into his arms, sobbing hysterically. We stood there, I regaining myself, and he quietly soothing me.  
  
"My name is Legolas, my dear. Hush, you'll be safe," he said quietly.  
  
"Orcs, sir, and a Nazgul!" I cried, panting and shuddering.  
  
"I'd better get you back to our camp. I travel with the Fellowship of the Ring. May I ask who you be?"  
  
"Alraia," I whispered, and fainted.  
  
***  
  
"Aragorn! Oh, I must see him!" I shouted, bursting away from my fit of tense exhaustion. Startled, Legolas, who had been carrying me, almost dropped me. Instead, he set me down carefully.  
  
"My father! He is in the Fellowship, isn't he? Aragorn?" I asked, stumbling over the words in my rush to rid them of my mouth.  
  
"Aragorn, your father? Well, yes he is in the Fellowship." To see my father, my father at long last! Hope shot through my veins; anxiety filled my heart with the angst of a long dream finally coming true.  
  
"Well, we'll want to get you there as soon as possible! Come this way." Legolas led me deep into the forest, I bouncing beside him with every step and pestering him with questions of my father. He laughed as he answered, and was very kind in refraining from asking about my experience with these "orcs, sir and a Nazgul!"  
  
"Here we are!" he said with a smile. Heart jumping with excitement, I nearly ran into the camp, but Legolas held me back. "You'll be a surprise," he whispered. "See that dark haired one staring into the fire? That's Aragorn." My eyes alit. Legolas grinned. My father…time seemed to slow as I absorbed his every feature. Legolas strode into camp.  
  
"Ah, Legolas!" exclaimed Gimli. "You're back!"  
  
"Did you find any food?" asked the grimmest of the hobbits. Frodo, I presumed.  
  
"No, but I did find this." Legolas gestured to the bushes. This was my cue: I emerged. "She was being chased by orcs and a Nazgul. I led her on quite the twisty path here, so I'm sure we lost them."  
  
"Hi," I said quietly, never taking my eyes of Aragorn. Did he not recognize me?  
  
"And who might you be, elf?" prodded Aragorn. My heart choked as I heard him speak.  
  
"Alraia of Lothlorien. You-" my voice faltered "-you are my father." I could see the shock in his eyes, the startled jump of his hands, the composure he lost and so quickly regained. Legolas looked mildly surprised and gladdened that his curiosity of why I was obsessed with Aragorn was fulfilled. Gimli laughed, and soon the whole Fellowship joined in.  
  
"I call the firewood shift tomorrow!" a tall man, Boromir, said to many chuckles. "Perhaps I too will find my long lost daughter!" I smiled.  
  
"Go talk with her, Strider! My goodness, don't you have anything to say!?" a hobbit said energetically. Peregrin Took, I assumed.  
  
"All right then." he said. We walked off away from the campfire.  
  
"Well, hello," I said shyly.  
  
"Well met, daughter! You did remind me of some one." A smile lit his features, and he hugged me: warm and loved feelings spread through my heart. To see my father after so long was wonder, sheer wonder and joy. One more thing only one more would fulfill my heart: did I have the courage to ask?  
  
"May I come with the Fellowship?" I asked. Well, it's done now….  
  
"Yes." Joy lit my features. "If Galadriel agrees." How could I?! How could I have forgotten?! Galadriel, my caregiver, knowing only that I had gone exploring, knowing none of my adventure: I did not deserve to go. The rest of the night was filled with angst.  
  
***  
  
"My word, child!" Galadriel cried as I finished my tale with my request.  
  
"I'm sorry," I replied softly.  
  
"Well, I did know that this would happen sometime. It's that blood running through your veins, that blood; it's full of adventure and disobedience. We'll just blame it on that, eh?" she smiled. I grinned back, hoping once more that my newfound wish would come true.  
  
"May I go with them?" I asked.  
  
"You must realize the danger. It is slim that you will survive, and to die at your age would be a tragedy. It would not be my choice to let you go." My hopes fell. I knew, I knew this would happen! "However, it is not my choice to keep you prisoner. So, for now, my dear, the Fellowship will be one of ten."  
  
"Oh thank you!" I hugged a last goodbye to may dearly loved caretaker, and prayed fervently that I would see her again as I packed my bags and loaded them up. The next day, we left. I was free at last of my lovely wood Lothlorien, the smooth woods leaving me behind forever, and taking a piece of my heart with them.  
  
***  
  
The journey was on boat, and I shared one with Frodo and Sam. Thus I developed a firm friendship with the hobbits, especially Frodo. We had much in common: each of us given a burden hard to take. I did not know yet what mine was, but the ache of it rested upon me like a thousand stones. He asked me many a time to take the Ring, but I was loath to do so: I had heard of its power. My fate and the Ring's were intertwined; this I could sense, though I could make nothing of it. Father and I became close, I embraced his presence, and he embraced mine- quickly teaching me all he knew about sword fight, polishing off my already trained fighting ways. Boromir and I barely met the entire journey: he seemed to be shy of me, as I gathered from his long piercing looks into my eyes.  
  
"Hello," I said to him one night by the fire as he returned with more firewood.  
  
"Hello, everyone. There are orcs in the distance that should reach us by morning," he said cheerfully, and I nearly laughed at the wonder his sheer daring. The rest of the company lacked my willing acceptance of this news, and we spent the rest of the night sharpening weapons and having pre-battle pep talks from my father and Boromir. These talks took away my eagerness for battle, and sent me to bed restless and edgy. On that fateful night Frodo came to me, trouble brewing in his eyes.  
  
"Alraia," he said by way of greeting.  
  
"Frodo," I replied.  
  
"I cannot stay," he said, gazing moodily off toward Mordor, his heart aching to travel with speed that the Fellowship could not grant. I saw it in his eyes, he would leave soon, and my only pain was between choosing him and choosing my father: with whom should I travel?  
  
"I know," I said, lying. Something indeed had been brewing within him ever since we left camp three days ago, but I had no idea what it was. "When do you plan to leave? Pray give me time to gather myself, to decide whether I shall go with you."  
  
"Go with me?!" he said, surprised.  
  
"Of course. Sam will come too, haven't you realized that?" I grinned. Frodo, ever the unknowing.  
  
"You daren't. My burden is for me alone, I can't drag others down with me," he said forcefully, yet deep in his eyes I saw gratitude.  
  
***  
  
The orcs came after Boromir vied to gain control of the Ring. I still didn't know what exactly happened in the forest, but the overall picture was clear: the Ring had corrupted the Fellowship, and Frodo must leave at once. And so must I. Tears stung my eyes as I heard my father and the Fellowship's valiant war cries as they speared orc after orc in battle. I was loath to leave them, but as I saw Frodo, terror hidden deep within him, and Sam, his fierce loyalty to his master covering whatever fright he had, I could not stay. So I scribbled a hasty note to my father, outlining what we were doing. We pushed off then, in the mid morning light, ever watchful, ever towards Mordor.  
  
Here the Fellowship of the Ring ends.  
  
Here the Two Towers begins. 


	2. The Two Towers

Alraia  
  
"We have to move quickly," said Frodo quietly, almost to himself, on the third night of our voyage. We stood sullenly on the brink of a cliff that teased us in falling down to the ever impending bogs.  
  
"Where to, then? We have no guide cross these lands. I'm certain I've passed this rock three times today!" I exclaimed. The Ring-bearer nodded, to my relief, and we set up camp on the dismal gray rocks. The moon frowned upon us as we labored, the earth on which we stood seemed to want nothing more than to heave up and throw us to our doom.  
  
"We are not welcome in these lands," I whispered in Elvish. To have the earth reject me threw shards into my heart. Sam, who had overheard, shot me a sympathetic glance. The moment, however, was broken by hisses of sharp breath and a stone falling down beside us.  
  
"Gollum!" Sam snarled. "How I wish your pater had killed him!" Frodo said nothing, to my confusion, but instead looked thoughtfully out into the dark. Frodo walked away from our huddle, and the next thing we knew there was a yelp and the sound of a tumbling hobbit body.  
  
"Frodo!" Sam and I cried, and I looked anxiously down the precipice while Sam dug in his pocket, muttering, "rope-rope- It must be here- Yes!" Smiling, Sam threw coils of shimmering silver Elven rope through the darkness to Frodo. He scrambled up and fitfully hugged each of us in relief.  
  
"Frodo," said Sam softly, "was there a nook down there, where no one could see us- not even Gollum?" I smiled, knowing what he was thinking. Frodo nodded. So we each clambered down the rope, and squeezed in the dark hole, feeling safe for now, even as we progressed to the most perilous place of them all.  
  
"Lembas for dinner tonight!" Frodo said cheerily, and Sam and I groaned. It had been my favorite childhood treat, and now I couldn't stand the taste. I did eat it, and thanked Galadriel for the energy it gave me. I heaved a sigh, and settled for a fitful sleep.  
  
***  
  
Trundling through the edges of Emyn Muil proved no easier. The thought of Gollum, however, did alleviate our tempers: for he could certainly not clamber down that cliff! I slept easily thinking of that, in our less than secure camps for the night. This was all well, until one moonless night, where Frodo shook me awake. He pointed to the cliff, and I could see a gray shape hunkering down it as a centipede would. I shuddered, and looked away. It was a sleepless night for me. I assured Sam and Frodo that I would watch him, and I scrambled on to a rock nearby. Casting my eyes away from Smeagol, and deep into the stars, I found Elbereth and prayed that we would successfully complete the mission. That a guide would come for us, that we wouldn't be lost in the marshes for ever. Taking a deep breath, I looked again at Gollum- and found that he was not on the cliff. Panic seized my body: Sam! Frodo! Where were they!? I lurched towards the camp, and found Gollum hunched over Frodo, knife to his neck, and oily gray hands searching for his Precious. I yelled and threw myself on top of Gollum, killing him with a bare stroke of my knife.  
  
*gasp* WHAT NEXT?! Alraia, Frodo and Sam are not cooperating, so I'm having a little trouble with finishing this chapter. Check back, though, more is coming soon! PS this fic won't end with Return of the King, that would be really stupid. These first three chapters are only setting the scene. (but I hope you'll like it anyway) 


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